|Common Patio Area|
|My Room in Granada|
|Hotel Housing Spanish Dale!|
America outside of Mexico, instruction was one on one. Students and their teachers met in the rear passageways of the hotel. It was quiet and shady back there. There seemed to be two other students besides myself, both of whom were young women from England in their early twenties. My teacher’s name was Arleen. She was a woman in her late thirties. She knew her grammar well and was a good teacher. The first day, we spent a lot of time conversing so that she could evaluate my Spanish abilities and then we made a mad dash through the present and simple past tenses, making sure I had a handle on the irregular verbs. As I suspected, I knew these pretty well and could complete exercises accurately, but often made errors when speaking without taking time to think. It was good to have someone to point out these errors.
|Volcan Mombacho from Las Isletas|
|Lucy with Baby Hiding in Leaves|
|Luxury Home in Las Isletas|
June 10, 2014
|Street View of My House in Granada|
|Fortaleza La Polvora|
|Granada Street Scene|
|The Front Patio|
June 12, 2014
I spent Thursday morning reviewing the conditional and subjunctive tenses and reading about the origin of the Spanish language. A turtle ambled around the garden in the hotel and a hummingbird visited the hibiscus blossoms near where we were sitting. Nicaraguan hummingbirds are drab brown creatures, nothing like the jewel green ones I am accustomed to seeing in California. It was hot. I went home for lunch and had all kinds of ambitions for the afternoon, but ended up taking a nap and staying in to work on my homework. The coffee I had in the afternoon the day before had kept me up half the night, so I didn't want to perpetuate the problem by having another iced latte. Granada lacked the numerous tiendas selling sodas, water and beer that I was accustomed to visit, so it was difficult to find a cold drink without going to a restaurant or bar. It was good to take a break from drinking, but I was starting to crave a cold beer in the evening. I hoped Ometepe would be more convenient.
|Xalteva Park, the Site of the Original Indigenous Village|
Dinner was fried, smoked cheese with salsa over a bed of plantains and, of course, beans and rice. While I was napping, someone painted the columns around the front patio. I got the feeling that Fatima's hobby was decorating the house. She was constantly altering something or changing a flower arrangement. She must have inherited some of her father's artistic sense. She had added a water dispenser in my room while I was in class.
I was very tempted to stay and study for another week, but Ometepe and Costa Rica beckoned and I was starved for fish, adult company and a cold beer. It was time to move on.